


Wishbone

by turnyourankle



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-28
Updated: 2007-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete doesn't trust his gut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishbone

  
The thing is.  
  
The thing is they - the journalists, djs, vjs, self appointed reporters and everyone else who thinks they have the right to know - always ask  _him_.  
  
"Did you know it was going to work right away? Could you feel it?" And the thing is, he always says yes. Yeah, he knew they were on to something, he knew as soon as he heard Patrick sing. His instinct told him to grab hold and never let go.   
  
But what Pete never says is that he doesn't trust his gut.  
  
His gut has, in the past, always failed him. His gut pinched with Arma, and Racetraitor, and every previous constellation of people and music he found himself a part of. The person he trusted the most, because his gut told him he could, betrayed him. Every time he left Jeanae it was because his gut told him to, and every time he came back was because of his gut as well.  
  
(Except for the last time he left. There was nothing but exhaustion and defeat in his limbs, and no determination. No feeling that this was The Right Thing, which is also why part of him thinks - is afraid - that this last time is the actual last time.)  
  
The knowledge that everything his instinct has given him has crumpled apart is under his skin no matter how much ink he soaks himself in, and the media’s questions are an unnecessary reminder.   
  
Everything good, everything he gets credit for creating has fallen into his hands by chance. Eighties movies marathons with Patrick; finished recording sessions; release parties; real smiles and laughter – they all make Pete feel like he's cheating. Like he's inadvertently robbed a bank, and he's heading towards the exit, every move caught on tape, security guards ready and waiting and --  
  
\-- he tries not to think about it. Touring is the best distraction: endless stretches of time, sometimes filled to the brim with interviews and performances, writing and recording, things you need to be awake for, focused for. Movement is inevitable even when time seems to stand still. Measurement is everywhere: if Pete can't count the hours he can count miles and new demos, notebook pages fillingup and cities, hands shaken and borders crossed.  
  
*  
  
"I don't get how you do that," Patrick says about Pete's crowd surfing, and Pete just grins and replies, "You only live once." Because it's not like he can tell Patrick that he feels like he's crowd surfing all the time, only with a less reliable crowd.   
  
*  
  
Pete knows things will end -- he's quite certain of it -- there's no how or when (although, it's pretty damn likely it's going to be ugly and unexpected), and what should be his grace period is spent thinking up things that can go wrong. Small arguments ending up in fist fights, FBR going bankrupt, plane crashes and cars skidding off the road and buildings burning down. He keeps a running tab in his head, constantly adding and subtracting different tragic scenarios.  
  
Overdosing is not on the list; it isn't even on his radar, but you know what say about the best laid (non-existent) plans of mice and men.  
  
*  
  
Pete dreams that he wakes up, arms covered in goosebumps instead of tattoos, and it's the best sleep he's had in weeks. Waking up is just a reminder that he's the one with the cancerous gut misdiagnosed as 'bad judgment', and tumors get worse; they don't disappear.  
  
(Sometimes though, the 9 to 5 and ink-free skin is a nightmare and the awakening is a relief. He doesn't remember those times.)  
  
*  
  
On a Tuesday, a few years from now, Pete will be woken up by a ringing phone, with one of his arms numb from having lain on it all night, the previous day's eyeliner still clinging to the corners of his eyes. The call will be an interview that he just didn't wake up for on time, he will know what city he is in without opening the curtains, or looking at his sidekick, or asking Andy -- who, for some reason, is still the only one in the band that manages to consistently memorize their schedule, despite the others' efforts. He will also know who is on the line when he picks up. The prickling in his skin from the awakening nerves endings will be his only concern.   
  
"With Fall Out Boy's ten-year anniversary coming up, I have to ask, when -- if ever -- did you know that the band would stand the test of time?"  
  
Hemingway will bark and jump into bed with Pete as he'll laugh he'll laugh and say hindsight's always 20/20, and that she should probably travel back in time and ask a fortune teller if she wants a straight answer.  
  
But that day is not today.  
  
*  
  
Today, Pete wakes up to a numb head and static skin. An empty house, and his favorite cereal. A post-it on the fridge, an errand, and bottle of pills that aren't his.


End file.
